ODE Poem: ODE TO MY THIGHS, by Katrina Lester

My thighs are a pillow for your heavy mind
to empty out the day. My thighs ripple
as your head presses against my mountain
of flesh big enough for you to caress.
But you used to tell me how you wish they could fit
within your grip without any spillage.
My thighs will never fit into your pocket to exchange
them for see-through skin my mother never made.

They compliment each other when they touch
like the warmth of a candlelight bath in the winter.
Craters envelop the outer edges like the moon’s surface;
uneven terrain of cobblestones that only I know how to navigate.
But I used to hold bruises trying to beat them to fit
into my grip. I hated that I couldn’t shrink them down
to piano wire, and as I sat at the piano, they pressed
against the bench as my flesh overflowed along the ends.

But they keep me from falling during gusts of wind
running towards me like a car losing its control.
I won’t apologize for how they take up your space
nor how they kiss each other as I walk, standing completely erect.
A birthmark dimples loudly like the smiles I own
that smell of caramel swirling along the edge of my hips.
I run my hand along my inner thighs, feeling the muscles I built accentuate,
the delicate creases of stretched out flesh reminding me of endurance.

Author: poetryfest

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